


I don't know if this deserves a title

by ABookAndACoffee, YouLookGoodInLeather



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 08:16:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABookAndACoffee/pseuds/ABookAndACoffee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouLookGoodInLeather/pseuds/YouLookGoodInLeather
Summary: This is a random collection of things that Harry and I wrote when we were together in London and drinking. We do not claim that this is good in any sense of the word.





	1. Chapter 1

Mor moaned in the bed. Stretching, she felt the damp of sweat and shuddered. She hadn’t felt like this before.

She never thought she could.

Elain had come to her in a fevered dream, but Mor hadn’t realized it was reality until hours later. The touch on her brow was hesitant at first, and then more sure, steady, and she wished it would venture further, taking chances. Of course, this sensual desire was somewhat ruined when she coughed up a year’s worth of phlegm and nearly passed out again.

“Shh, don’t try to sit up,” Elain said in her usual soft, soothing tone, magnified tenfold by her concern for her patient. “I told you staying out in the rain was going to get you sick.” Mor had faint memories of perching atop a rooftop yelling at the falling precipitation in outrage at Rhysand’s tactical decisions, but beyond that? Things started getting a little fuzzy. She faintly remembered someone appearing through the downpour atop the hill, riding down to her on horseback to gather her up, hold her close to warmth, body heat, flesh and silk.

Elain.

She’d been rescued by Elain.

That this woman had predicted her outing, had known where to find her, was a miracle in itself. Perhaps no one else would have found her, for she had wandered so far out. But Elain always had a way of knowing more than she should.

Mor’s blood dripped into the porcelain bowl at her arm. The doctor had come from miles away, a specialist of some sort, though all she wanted was Elain. No one else brought her such comfort.

“Am I going to die?” Mor asked her. She felt a chill come over soul, the cold pallor of death creeping its way towards her.

“Are you kidding?” Elain replied. “You’re going to be fine, Mor. Just lay back and let me take care of you, and you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Mor nodded sagely. “Alright. I think I can endure.”

Elain turned and wrung out her rag, sighing. These fae could be so dramatic, when the slightest hint of their mortality made its presence known.


	2. Chapter 2

Rhys has been promising Feyre a threesome for _so long_. Two males worshipping her? GOALS. *insert laughter, and a ‘shut up!’* 

None of this is going on AO3. 

Helion was a man. From… the Summer court??? Right? I don’t ever remember. I don’t fucking know. Okay Tarquin is Summer court never mind. Don’t dictate this shit. Okay. Drunk Leslie did not know who this was. NOTE THE WORD DRUNK. *cackles* This is like my drunk poetry, at this point. 

Wait, who’s gonna fuck Feyre? STOP WRITING WHAT I’M SAYING! (the scribe would like to note she is being beaten up with a pillow right now) Write some actual porn please!

Um. Okay. *hiccups* I can’t say anything because you’ll *tearfully* _write it_. (more physical hitting occurs here. Leslie is problematic. She is ur problematic fave). Wait if this is porn she doesn’t say stop she says Mor. (me: which Mor? More?) No like plus (with a french accent) more. 

Okay somebody’s in her vagina but like… who? Hellion. (said like that) but with which part of himself? she is not sure? All she knows is that she wants to fucking cum. No this is so BAD. No don’t write that! *snort* Harry stop. I- there’s a difference between what i am trying to make u write and what i am saying to you harry in the real world! 

(here Leslie decided to end it here, as per my proposal)

Yeah that’s good. Are you blaming this on me? Okay. Oh man. 


	3. Chapter 3

Nesta had the House of Wind to herself. She could use this for many things; utilise her monopoly on the library (where Cassian couldn’t mock her for being such a ‘nerd’, as he put it), or go and invade the kitchens in search of something sweet. But what was she doing instead?

She was- well. 

It was obvious just from the sounds she was making. 

Stretched out against the balcony, she had a hard, glass object slipped beneath her skirts. Whilst her thumb wandered her clit, probing, circling, _pushing_ , she pressed that glass rod deeper inside of herself. The rod itself had been a birthday present from Amren. She’d feigned horror, but the reality was she’d seen such things many, many times before. 

Her own left hand was much better company than most men after all.

She was finding just the perfect rhythm and pressure when she heard a door opening and closing nearby. Surely it couldn’t be anyone she knew, anyone who would dare come disturb her few moments of solitude.

And yet she knew that Cassian would come looking for her, and find her with legs spread, near an edge that she wouldn’t stop trying to find no matter who interrupted her.

When he pushed open the door without knocking she was not surprised, didn’t even bother feigning it. The look on his face was enough for the both of them, and she smiled. Rubbing her clit once more in full view of him, Nesta gave out a small moan that she knew would go straight to him. There were few people she knew as well, including how well she could control them, as Cassian. And as she heard his breath stop, hitch, she knew how well she had calculated that control.  

He only took a few strides to reach the edge of her bed, to grasp her hand. She thought he’d take control of that deep, low rhythm inside of her, but instead he dropped before her into his knees. Not a word was said as he brushed aside her skirts to gain access to her thighs, soft and hot, her clit, swollen and wanting. That tongue of his, so talented in crude jokes and kind words, proved ever so sinful upon her skin. He worked into her, deep and exploratory, as she tipped back and moaned. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Elain turned over in bed, her arm flinging out to the side. Who knew what hour it was? It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that she was hungry, and fucking _hungover_ after two glass of wine. On the plus side, she had two women between her who might cater to her desires. 

Her nightgown was bunched around her waist, and she shoved the blanket down. Azriel shifted next to her, and Lucien buried her face deeper into her neck. Smiling to herself, Elain calculated how long she would have to wait for breakfast. Or _what_ she might have to do to earn it. 

“I’m hungry,” She whined, pathetic enough to wake a bleary-eyed Azriel from her slumber. “Make me breakfast?” 

“Ask Luce,” Azriel mumbled sleepily, no doubt having been unable to sleep until the early hours of dawn. Still, _breakfast_. 

Prodding the redhead snuggled into her shoulder, Elain murmured into her ear. “I’ll eat you out if you get me real food first.” Maybe it was the sexual bribery, maybe the potential for pancakes or scrambled eggs - or real bacon - but whatever it was, Lucien sat up awful quickly. 

“Yes ma’am. This asshole’s coming with me though,” she said, clambering out of bed and dragging Az with her by the wrist. 

“Are you going to pay up this time, Elain? Or leave us hanging?”

Elain shrunk down into her pillow, covering herself with the blankets. “I would never do that. You know, I’ve been working on some new techniques.” She licked her lips, and Lucien watched intently. “I think you’ll be pleased with the results of my studies. In fact,” she added, “I wonder if you’ll make me wait too long to try them on you. Both of you, at the same time.” She smiled so sweetly that Lucien wondered for a moment whether they were talking about the same thing.

 


End file.
